A Gift of Love
by archy12
Summary: "You wouldn't call my Mum pretty. However, you can call her one of the most beautiful women on this earth." A handsome stranger, a discovery about their mother...Life is precious. ( An entry for the Twilight Diversity Contest and winner of Judges Choice 3rd Place, and also personal favourite of host BelieveItOrNot, judge Bon123 and validator EnchantedbyTwilight.)
1. Chapter 1

**Title of Story: A Gift of Love**

 **Story Summary: "You wouldn't call my Mum pretty. However, you can call her one of the most beautiful women on this earth." A handsome stranger, a discovery about their mother…Life is precious.**

 **Beta'ed by: Starnosy.** My heartfelt thanks to this sweet woman for her enthusiasm and encouragement.

 **Disclaimer:** _The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended._

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 **A Gift of Love**

You wouldn't call my Mum pretty. Nah, she's not even average in the looks department. Not that her nose is too long or short or she's cross-eyed or has pixie-like ears. No, it's just that God was in an indecisive mood when he put her together. He made the frame all right, but when he reached the face he ran out of ideas to construct anything new, or so it seems to me. I think he just picked up the leftovers from the day and glued them on the surface. None of them seem to belong together.

It is as if a kid had drawn a circle and filled it with lines for eyes and nose and mouth without giving a damn for proportions. Her features have been built for functional purpose only. She can see, breathe, hear and speak. Nobody is going to write poems on the magnificence of her eyes or the perfection of her lips.

Her complexion is somewhat patchy, dark in some places and light in others. She has beautiful hair though, jet-black, long and lustrous. And she's tall, she really is!

If you looked at her from the back you would think she might be a top-rank model with a hot body. Tall and thin, with hair rippling down her back like a cascade of dark water.

However, you would think this only if she is standing still. For as soon as she moves the illusion is broken. And the truth is far from pretty.

As a result of a trivial childhood accident, grossly neglected, her left ankle was permanently damaged, leaving her with a slight limp. Her parents were stinking rich, but they figured it was unimportant to care for an ugly girl. It was her fate to be so. Besides, they had another daughter to pamper.

The younger one, (must have been spoilt rotten), was the exact opposite in looks, according to my fond grandparents. At least, that is what I have gathered from their numerous mushy recounts. Oh yes, Rose was sooo pretty, adorable and cuddly as a baby and vivacious and sweet-tempered as a grown-up. Took after both of them, you see.

Poor Mum. God only knows where she had descended from!

"Rose was a typical Indian beauty," gushes my grandmother even today. "She had these doe-like eyes that would melt one's heart with a single, demure look. She had a small nose, slightly upturned, just like me. And her lips were of the shape of the Cupid's bow, and her dimples…She had such a sweet disposition. I never saw her frown in her life." And cue the sigh.

Oh, how I wish it was permissible to be rude to one's grandmother!

The funny thing is, Mum is not bitter about anything. She says she understands.

Her parents, the pillars of the business community in their small town in the southern part of India, were hoping for a son as their firstborn. But all they got was a daughter, that too an ugly one. Naturally they were disappointed. How were they going to explain it to their relatives and friends? On my grandfather's side, the first child in every generation had been a boy. And then this!

The second daughter, born five years later, didn't bother them too much as by then they had lost any hope of having any other child. (They had married kind of late anyway.) That she was pretty as a picture was a bonus. They had no more children, so they showered all their love on her.

Not that it excuses their criminal neglect of the elder daughter.

Even now you will find their living-room walls adorned with the pictures of a lovely, laughing girl—dancing, holding a trophy, enjoying herself on a picnic, or blowing the candles on her birthday cake. Only a few group pictures show another girl, older, with a shy smile on her lips. That's Mum. She looks rather out of place, ready to run out of the frame. It is clear she wasn't feeling comfortable there.

No prizes for guessing who must have made her feel so awkward.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. Mum's a doctor—a pediatrician. You see, she loves kids, all of them. She doesn't treat them just physically, she goes into their psyche. She becomes their confidante and friend, much like she's ours. And don't they adore her!

I have even seen some of her long-term patients cry their hearts out when it is time to leave the hospital. And while they are there, it is always Bella aunty this and Bella aunty that. To be honest, it made me jealous when I was younger, to see her surrounded by all those kids, and her face glowing with love and happiness. Now of course I understand. She is so full of love that she has _got_ to distribute it among as many children as possible. Or maybe making sure no other child feels neglected, as she used to do.

I have got a sister as well, couple of years younger to me. Her name is Angela, but Mum calls her Pari, meaning fairy, because she says she is pretty like one.

I say that she did when she was a child and Mum dressed her up in the prettiest of dresses. But ever since she has turned fifteen she has also turned into a rebel without a cause. She sports the typical grunge look and streaks her hair pink and purple for her friends' birthday parties. Really, she is getting to be a brat, but Mum says she will outgrow it; she is just high- spirited.

My grandparents agree, of course. After all, she is the apple of their eye. They say that she takes after her mother. Our mother, actually. That is, our biological mother. Oh, didn't I tell you? I am not telling this story in the correct order, am I? But then, I am not a pro in this department. Let me try to explain it better.

So, anyway, what I was saying is that Aunt Rose is our biological mother. Why am I calling her Aunt? Well, it is kind of difficult to connect with her. She died real early, right after my sister was born. So I don't remember her at all. Neither do I miss her.

Does that sound disloyal? But you see, Mum is _Mum_ to me. Aunt Rose is just her sister. Of course, my grandparents still miss her, and praise her a lot too, every time they meet Mum. Which is more than I would like them to.

And you know what Grandma told us on her last visit? That nobody would have married Mum ever, so it was lucky for her Dad took pity on her after Rose's death and married her. How _can_ she? How can any mother say it? And Grandpa keeps quiet, never stops her. One day I'm going to explode, and tell them exactly what I think of them, the old fogies!

I mean, I know Mum loves us, I feel it in my bones. And I think Dad knows too. He treats Mum okay. In fact, he's rather respectful towards her, as if she was her senior officer! (Dad is in the administrative services, you see.) And Mum, she treats him like she does all of us—friendly, but a bit maternal. Sometimes I wonder about their relationship. But both of them love us, so life is pretty good for Pari and me, no complaints.

Mum is a pretty regular kind of person. I mean, you know just what she will say and how will she react in a situation. I thought she has always been like this, but today I got a huge shock. The whole thing is completely insane, unbelievable.

The day had begun like any other weekday. Pari and I had our breakfast and left for school while Mum and Dad were getting ready for work. At school, James, my classmate, was still trying to get friendly with Pari. At the rate he is going, he would successfully ask her for a date in a hundred years, maybe. Nice chap, but he does get nervous in front of her. Not that impressing Pari is easy. She is so totally cool, even I would have been nervous in James's place. I mean, she is very friendly, but she has a way of looking at you which makes you stumble over your words. Especially if you are going to ask something personal. Makes you feel kind of silly, if you know what I mean.

We rehearsed for the Christmas musical, and Mrs. Cope was really pleased with my flute-playing. Even went to the extent of saying I had potential. That's something, coming from her. I doubt even Lord Krishna would have received anything more if he had suddenly appeared in front of her and played a soulful tune. She would have been impressed, but her expression would have remained unchanged. She is the very picture of stoic.

She would have nodded slowly and commented—"Young man, you have potential. Carry on! And better wear something warm, you will catch cold in those garments!"

She would have probably added something like 'teenagers nowadays will do anything to look different' as well!

Have you seen Krishna's pictures? I really like him. Those colourful clothes and that mischievous smile, at least in the pictures depicting him as a child, and he never lost his cool. That's something I would like to emulate. Not that I get into fights easily, but I have frequently experienced that boiling bubbling feeling in my blood when faced with injustice or hypocrisy. I tend to stew in my anger, which I think is as bad as letting it out violently.

Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, Krishna and his coolness.

Sometimes I wonder if Krishna was weather-proof. He never crippled his style by loading himself with pullovers or jackets. Guess a number of dudes today are inspired by his sense of (un)dress. And then they say we are trying to show off!

We reached home at the usual time, and there was the first surprise of the day. Mum was home. Her car was parked outside the garage. But how could that be? She never took an off unless one of us was sick. At least, not that I could remember. Was she unwell?

As Pari and I entered the house, I saw that there was someone else in the drawing room. He had his back to us, but as Mum noticed us and beckoned to come over, he turned and smiled warmly. I was sure he wasn't Indian, for all his dark hair and eyes and suntanned face. I couldn't place him though. But that mystery was solved the next moment as he stood up and shook hands with us, introducing himself as Doctor Antonio, from Naples. He had a very charming smile. I noticed with amusement that Pari seemed awestruck.

Mum gestured to us to go and change, and not until we had reached the landing upstairs did Pari utter a word, and then it was only a dazed "Wow!"

"Pari, he is too old for you!" I laughed.

"So what?" she replied. "He's so…hot! Actually I look too young for him!" She shook her head. "He will never notice me if he saw me only in this uniform. Must change into something glamorous!" And she rushed to her room. Crazy, that girl!

But when we went back to the drawing room we found only Mum there, staring out of the window. Pari looked crestfallen, but before she could say anything I nudged her and indicated Mum. For once, she understood. As we approached Mum she turned her head and smiled at us, but her eyes seemed to be looking at something far away.

I asked her if she was feeling ok.

"I'm fine," she answered and went to the sofa and sat down. We took the chairs opposite her.

She looked at us as if wondering whether to say whatever was on her mind or not. "Mum,' I asked tentatively, "is Dr. Antonio an old friend of yours?"

She nodded. "Yes, he is. I thought you would be wondering about him."

We said yes, and Pari added, "But if you don't want to tell, it's okay."

I was really surprised with her consideration.

"No, no, you're old enough to understand," Mum said calmly. "I think I should tell you. In fact, I want to, right now. But first, you must have lunch."

We protested we were not hungry, but she was firm. So we gobbled up our food at top speed and rushed back, and then she told us this extraordinary story.

I have already mentioned that my grandparents were biased towards Aunt Rose. But in spite of the lack of attention, or maybe because of it, Mum was a bright student, and a diligent one. It was the only thing she could have control over, you see. And then, because of her accident, she was fired by the idea of becoming a doctor. So while Aunt Rose opted for marriage after completing her graduation, Mum decided to do a specialization from USA, having earned her medical degree as well as a gold medal. Her parents didn't think much of it, but they knew that she wasn't going to get a good proposal easily. Also, Mum was going on a full scholarship and not asking them for a single penny.

"By then I was more confident of my abilities," said Mum slowly. "I told them that I had a right to make a success of my life, regardless of my looks. I emphasized that they would never find a suitable groom for me in their community, so the sensible thing to do was to let me go to another country where only my professional qualifications would matter. Some of their friends also advised them to let me go as obtaining the scholarship was something to be proud of. Finally they agreed."

Aunt Rose had had no dearth of proposals since she turned eighteen, and the old people were mightily pleased when she made a respectable match. In their eyes, Edward Masen, a good-looking boy from a respectable family and holding a post in the IAS (Indian Administrative Services) was no less than a demi-god. It was a pity that both of his parents had passed away when he was only in high school, but that couldn't be helped. At least he had uncles and aunts on both sides. In fact, the uncle who had brought him up was a senior officer in the IAS as well; that was something they could proudly mention to their relatives.

The wedding ceremony was followed by a grand reception, obviously. When it was over, the brand-new couple left on a honeymoon to the scenic Switzerland. Where else? After all, Switzerland has been touted as the perfect destination for honeymooners in our movies for years.

My grandparents were happy to foot the bill. In fact, they boasted about it to their relatives and friends. According to them, it was the least they could do for their darling daughter and their only son-in-law.

"Not many newly-married, young couples could afford to go to Switzerland in those days," declared my grandmother once. "But I told your grandfather that Rose and Edward must go there. It would be the perfect start to their life together. And nobody could say we didn't do right by them. After all, you don't get married every day; that too to an IAS officer!"

Her face shone with barely contained pride while she made this statement. Pari glanced at me with raised eyebrows and lips pressed together, but a quiet snort escaped her nevertheless. Thankfully our grandmother didn't notice.

At least she didn't say it in front of Dad. He would have died of embarrassment.

For being in the services, Dad is a very unassuming guy. He likes to spend as much time with us as possible. Oh, he attends parties and functions because he is expected to, but he has made it clear to us that his family is his priority. Every year we go on a family vacation, and it is so much fun.

Maybe it is because he lost his parents early and has no siblings, but unlike many of my classmates I have never felt neglected by him.

"Money and position can make you happy only up to a certain degree," he said quietly once when I thanked him for making time for us. "In the end what matters is how close you are to your family, the memories you make with them and the unconditional support you give and receive from them. Maybe some people want different things, but this is what makes me happy and content. When I see the three of you laughing together, my world feels complete."

It wasn't exactly a secret, but it was still kind of a revelation to me, a joyful one.

Oh, sorry for getting distracted. So where were we? Right, the young couple getting married and leaving for their honeymoon all those years ago, and my grandparents happy and proud to be able to send them.

You have probably noticed that I don't say Aunt Rose and Dad left for their honeymoon. That's just awkward. I don't want to think of them like that.

And Mum took the reluctant blessings of her parents and left for the States.

No doubt the old folks had resigned themselves to see Mum grow an old maid, slogging over her patients, lonely and unadmired. But it didn't turn out like that. While she was busy with her medical studies and residency, she met Toni, and something magical happened.

"I don't remember exactly when or where we met the first time," she mused, looking back into the past. "It must have been at the hospital, because I didn't have much of a social life. Looks do matter in these things, you know. And I was so introverted in those days, so horribly shy. It was only with children I felt—normal. They could see beyond this face, straight into my heart. With them I could talk and laugh freely. They were from different countries, but spoke the same language of love. I treated their bodies, but they treated my mind, my soul. Right from childhood I had been bitter, although I never showed it .I often fought with God for making me ugly and Rose so beautiful. I understood there was nothing I could do about it, so I applied myself to studies instead. I loved books because they did not judge me by my looks. They became my refuge. A good thing too, I realize now. By the time I became a doctor I knew for sure no _eligible_ bachelor was ever going to propose to me. And I didn't want to get married to a guy who would marry me only for the large dowry my parents could provide me.

America was better in one, and one respect only—I was spared the pitying glances of our relatives. And their hurtful words, their stupid suggestions to mother and father, of finding either a widower or a ghar-jamai (a groom who would stay with the bride's parents, usually wealthy ones) for me. Otherwise it was the same. I told myself I didn't mind. I read pity in some eyes, ridicule in others, but kindness and love were rare, especially in people of my age. That I received only from the little children, or from the elderly. I was as much of a recluse there as here, but the anonymity protected me. I decided never to return, to be surrounded by children forever. At least there would be some meaning in my life.

As I said, I'm not sure when did I meet Toni first. I must have seen him at the hospital a number of times the first year before realizing he was there, as a person I mean, not just another doctor. He was two years my senior, but very friendly. For a long time I was cautious. I had been either avoided or pitied so much that I had come to look upon myself as a non- entity. That someone could be genuinely interested in me was almost unbelievable. Still, he drew me out, and I told him everything I had kept to myself until then. My childhood, my envy and frustration, and my dreams. Slowly, in the next two years, we became very good friends. He was so patient, so understanding; I felt I was lucky to have him with me."

Mum paused here, as if deciding what to say next, and asked Pari to get a glass of water. For a change, she was remarkably quick getting it. Slowly she sipped the water, looked at us thoughtfully, and continued with the narration.

"It's difficult to pinpoint when our friendship changed into something deeper, something different. All I can say is, we enjoyed being together. We began to go out too, when we had free time. Which wasn't much, considering our jobs. He gave me the confidence I had always needed. I lost that awkwardness, that feeling of diffidence I had had since childhood. I even learned to dance."

She smiled at our surprised faces. "Oh yes, I could manage it, even with my bad foot. Not fast numbers of course, but otherwise it was not difficult. One just needs the right partner. Come to think of it, that goes for life too."

She gave us a moment to digest this, then continued. "One day he told me that he planned to go back to his hometown, to serve his people there. And in the same breath he asked me if I would accompany him, as his wife. I was so surprised I couldn't say a word. It's true I had been wishing for something like that for some time. But it was just that—a wish. Never in my dreams even had I expected it to come true. I asked him if he was sure."

She smiled reminiscently. "Perhaps he understood the panic in my voice, for he assured me gravely he was quite sure. I asked him why, and he replied with a smile, "Because there's no other way you will be with me for life!" Reluctantly I reminded him of my shortcomings, saying he could marry someone much better-looking. He answered, "Are you crazy? I don't want to marry your face or your foot, I want to marry you! And if it bothers you so much, you can go for cosmetic surgery. If it will make you feel better, that is. I love you exactly as you are."

Needless to say, I was on cloud nine, dreaming of a life in Italy with such a good man. I was anxious of my parents' reaction, but hoped they would finally understand. I sat up late in the night and wrote them a long letter, explaining everything. I thought I would post it in the morning. But that never happened."

My heart kind of dropped into my stomach as I deduced what must have happened. Still, it didn't explain why she could not have married the man she loved at a later date.

She took a deep breath. "Early next morning, there was a phone call for me from my father. Rose had died during childbirth, and I was needed at home. I could not believe it. My little sister, so pretty, so vibrant—dead! It was impossible. But true, said my father. I said I would be there as soon as possible.

I called up Toni. He was horrified, but very supportive. He helped me through everything. Both of us resigned. We were planning to do that anyway, just not that soon. Completing all the necessary paperwork took a week or so. Toni offered to come with me to India, but I asked him to go on to Naples as planned. It would have meant extra expenditure, and he wasn't exactly floating in money. He would have had to come here for the wedding anyway. I promised him I would broach the topic with my parents as soon as possible and inform him. Obviously it was going to take some time. Neither was it going to be easy in any way. I left for India, dreading the scene at home.

When I reached there my worst fears were confirmed. My mother was almost out of her mind with grief. Though the cremation was over she still used to wander in the house, calling for her little girl. Father was calm enough, but numb with shock He seemed so helpless. None of them was in a state to look after the two of you, and your Dad—he simply didn't know what to do. A few relatives were helping, but obviously they could not stay forever. And you were too young to be left to the care of servants entirely. So, almost automatically I took upon myself the responsibility of your well-being.

You (she looked at me fondly) were so small, and scared because of the strangely silent atmosphere at home. You missed your mother, and followed me around continuously. As for you, Pari, you did not even know whom you were missing. As long as I looked after you and fulfilled your needs, you were content. Days turned into weeks, and soon a month had passed. And I still couldn't bring myself to tell my parents about Toni. It didn't seem right somehow, to be thinking of my own happiness when they were so unhappy. I could see everyone was comfortable with the arrangement, and although mother had accepted Rose's death and was slowly returning to her normal self, I wasn't sure if she was up to taking another shock. And that's what my news would certainly have been, a shock. I called up Toni frequently, and explained the circumstances to him. He assured me I was doing the right thing and I should take my time.

One evening, just as I had put you two to bed—for about the sixth time, I think— my father approached me. I had never seen him so hesitant. With some difficulty he explained himself. He was worried for you, being under the impression that I would eventually return to USA. And then there would be none to take care of you. I told him then that I had decided not to return to the States.

He was so relieved, so happy. Before I could say another word he began to bless me for being so kind and considerate. He also berated himself for not recognizing my "true value" earlier, and what a gem of a person I was. He said he had been thinking about it for many days, seeing how much I loved both of you, and you me. That next to Rose I was the only one who could be your mother.

I was taken aback, but could not bear to disillusion him. For the first time in my life I was being considered worthy by him. And he was right. I had come to love you by then, and did not trust anybody else to look after you. Your Dad would have had to marry someone eventually. He couldn't have managed both office and home by himself. And what if the other woman hadn't cared for you, or worse, mistreated you? I couldn't let that happen!

Father spoke with your Dad. He was reluctant at first, but finally agreed. He loved Rose very much, but could see it was the only logical solution. Like me, he did not want to take a chance with your future by marrying a stranger. And so we were married, without any fanfare.

"And what about Toni?" Pari burst out, surprising both of us. She had been so still while Mum was speaking that I had kind of forgotten she was there. "Did you even inform him before getting married?"

"Of course I told him," said Mum heavily. "I called him up as soon as everything was decided. He did not blame me, although I could sense his tears over the phone. He said he understood, and that he would always remember me and cherish the time we had spent together as the most beautiful gift life had given him. (A shiver seemed to pass gently through her thin frame.) He wished me all the best in life, and promised he would come and see us whenever he came to India. That's why he was here today. He is here for a medical conference."

"And did he get married?" she fired another question.

Mum nodded. "I begged him to move on, insisting I wouldn't be happy until he was. Finally, he got married to a girl he used to know as a child. They are happy together."

I wanted to ask only one question, and I asked it then. 'Mum, your parents neglected you, your relatives always compared you unfavourably to Aunt Rose, and you had a lousy childhood, all because of her. Yet you gave up the one chance of happiness and love you had for her children. Why?"

She looked surprised. "Oh no, I didn't have a difficult time because of Rose. It was not her fault she was pretty and I was not. I know you imagine us as a kind of reversal of Cinderella and her ugly sister, but it wasn't like that."

She gave a rather impish smile at the look on our face. "Oh yes, you have let your imagination run away with you, haven't you? Although I must say your faith in me is touching. But you know, in spite of all the pampering she received Rose was quite unspoilt. She was a happy person, and she liked everyone around her to be happy. Why, all those photographs in which we are together—she was the one who dragged me in front of the camera. I would never have faced one on my own."

"But you have changed now, haven't you?" I asked. "I thought you were always like this."

She shook her head. "No, I wasn't. Like others I gave too much importance to looks. I believed that I didn't deserve love, romantic love, I mean. But Toni made me see how wrong I was. And Rose's death really shook me up. It also taught me an important lesson, which I should have learnt earlier as a doctor. That life is truly precious. Rose was pretty, but she had such a short life. Shouldn't I thank God then, for being alive and well? And surrounded by so much love? What I did was the least I could do, actually."

"But grandmother says Dad took pity on you and married you because nobody else would have," I said bitterly. "And both of them are so sentimental over her death even now!"

Mum raised her eyebrows at my tone. 'Well, who else should be they sentimental over? I'm still alive, am I not? Anyway, what mother thinks doesn't matter. You know the truth, and so does your Dad. That's enough for me." Her tone was very serious. "I have seen mother devastated over Rose's death. In fact, I was afraid for her life then. No, it's enough that she is still with us."

She looked at Pari curiously. "You are very quiet. What are you thinking of?"

"Just that you couldn't have loved Dad the way you loved Toni. It must have been difficult…for both of you," she answered softly.

It seemed to me Pari had suddenly grown up a lot in the last hour or two.

Mum did not reply immediately, but looked at her feet, which was uncharacteristic of her. When she finally raised her head her eyes were very bright.

"I did what I thought was right," she said, and her voice was steady. "It was my choice, and I have never repented over it, nor do I intend to. Life's like that. It asks us to decide one way or another, and does not give us much time. Maybe you don't understand it today, but one day you will. Children are the most precious gift God has given us. Whatever we do for them is worth doing."

She blinked and looked at us, her eyes warm and shining.

"You two love me, don't you?"

"Of course Mum," we said in unison.

"But are _you_ happy…with Dad?" I asked hesitantly.

She smiled shyly, her cheeks going pink. Was she blushing?

"Your father is very easy to love. It took us time to adjust to the shock life had given us, but yes, eventually we learnt to make the best of it."

Pari asked, "Can I ask you another question?"

Mum nodded, looking anxious. "Does Toni have a son? Of course he will be younger to me, but I can wait for him to grow up." Pari's eyes were alight with mischief.

Mum and I dissolved into laughter.

Later that evening, I watch my parents with new eyes. I notice how attentive Dad is to Mum, how he looks at her with adoration written on his face, and how his attention makes her eyes sparkle.

Even the way he calls her _Bella_ , not Isabella. Oh yes, they love each other all right. It is such a relief to me.

We all know Dad is a big softie, in spite of his tough guy act as a senior administrative officer. When Aunt Rose died, it probably shook his world. I am sure that Mum saved him as much as she saved Pari and me when she agreed to marry him, even though most probably she has never realized it.

You know, you are right. You really can't call my Mum pretty. You can, however, call her one of the most beautiful women on this earth.

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 **A.N.** : Thank you to all the readers who read and reviewed this story in the contest, and voted for it of course. It was a happy surprise to win the various awards in this contest. Honestly, I hadn't expected anything!

This story is a one-shot. However, if you are interested in an EPOV or an outtake, please let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi there! How are you all?

It's been months since I posted anything, isn't it? I was dealing with some family problems and writing was far, far away from my mind.

Anyway, things are better now, so I am posting an EPOV of this story. The chapters will be short, but I will post frequently.

Hope you like this!

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 **Edward**

What does one want in life?

The answers are obvious, of course. Money, love, fame, power…these are some of the popular ones. The preference varies depending upon the individual, his goals and ambitions in life or lack thereof. And with age, definitely.

When I was a child, I dreamt of discovering hidden treasures, just like Alibaba. I wanted to live in a grand palace, preferably one that could fly, and play with precious gems. When my mother gently explained to me that those things happened only in fairy tales, I was heartbroken.

Not for long though. Like any other child, I shrugged off one fantasy for another. I wanted to be a big government officer like my father, live in a bungalow even more beautiful than ours and have servants around to do my bidding. And how grand it would be to have a personal chauffer and people addressing me as 'Sir'!

This one was relatively realistic, even though my father let me know that I would have to study hard and be good at things like debate and elocution if I wanted my dream to come true. And that was only the beginning of it.

I was willing to do all this though. Studies came naturally to me, and I learnt how to be a good debater from my father. I played cricket for the fun of it, not being very competitive where sports were concerned. Swimming too was something I enjoyed and was good at—both in the pool and in the sea. Living in a coastal town did have its benefits!

My parents had a busy social life, but I never felt neglected as they made sure to spend time with me, doing things that all of us enjoyed. Picnics on the beach, playing basketball in our backyard, cooking the Sunday brunch together…Yes, life was good.

Until a freak boating accident took away my parents. In one brief moment, as my uncle stood in front of me and gave me the news, I had become an orphan. I was fifteen.

Now, I realize that I was more fortunate than millions of other children. I had relatives who loved me—my uncle Carlisle, my aunt Esme, my cousins Charlotte and Alice, and even both sets of grandparents. Esme was my mother's older sister, almost ten years older than my mother Elizabeth, and Carlisle was five years older to her. Charlotte and Alice were in their twenties and were married. They had always been very fond of me.

Everyone took great care of me. Esme and Carlisle made me feel completely welcome in their home, even though it must have been somewhat odd to have a teenager living with them after their own children had grown up and moved away. My cousins visited frequently even though they lived in different cities and had their families to look after. My grandparents showered me with love and affection whenever I visited them. I did well at the new school too, and Carlisle encouraged me to prepare for a career in administration, telling me that I could do a lot of good there.

Still, anybody who has lost their parents—especially at a young age—will understand that nobody can fill the emptiness their death creates. With the passage of years the pain might dull, but it never goes away completely. You want to share important moments with them, such as graduating from college, and then you remember that they are not around. Even though your achievements remain the same, the pang in your heart takes away a little of the joy that you had been experiencing just a second earlier.

Over the years I did understand one thing. Since life was uncertain, we should make every moment count. Just as my parents had left behind a lot of happy memories for me, I was going to leave for my children. I had met people who were unable to separate their office persona from the one at home, but I was determined not to make that mistake. At home, I would be just a husband and a father.

My hard work paid off when I passed the Civil Services Examination with flying colours. I got a decent posting too, probably due to the influence my uncle exerted as a senior bureaucrat. Instead of feeling guilty, I decided to make use of the opportunity by throwing myself into my work and being completely fair and honest as an administrator.

Barely a year had passed since I had gone into the service when Carlisle approached me with a proposal.

"I know that you are very young, but I would like you to meet this girl once," he said. "She is the younger daughter of a prominent businessman of our city. Perhaps you have heard of Charles Swan?"

I answered that I had indeed heard of him.

"He has two daughters. The elder one is a doctor and is planning to go abroad for further studies, so she is not interested in marriage right now. Rose, the younger daughter, is in the final year of her graduation. Not only she is beautiful, she is also kind and cheerful. And of course her upbringing has prepared her for the social responsibilities being your wife would entail. I have asked Charles if the two of you can meet in a social setting. If you like each other, you can talk more and get to know each other. If not, it's all right, no pressure."

When he put it like that, I could see no harm in the meeting. Even though I wasn't actively thinking of getting married, sometimes I would imagine coming home to my wife, sharing my day with her and asking about hers. I had no particular image in my mind of how she should look, only that it would be nice to have some common interests. As for love, I didn't believe in love at first sight, but I hoped that we would gradually learn to love each other. Until then, mutual respect and affection would do.

Our first meeting proved how little I knew of the affairs of the heart!

If you were to ask exactly what happened when I met Rose or how I knew that she was _the one_ for me, I wouldn't be able to explain. It wasn't as if a bolt of lightning had struck me as soon as my eyes met hers or my future flashed in front of me when she placed her delicate hand in mine. I remember chatting about some things—the wedding reception we were attending, the muggy weather, the reason why I went into the civil services, etc. And I remember her laugh, its pretty sound and the way it made her eyes shine.

"So what do you think about Rose?" asked my uncle as soon as we left the reception.

I told him that she seemed to be a nice girl and I wouldn't mind meeting her again. But inside, I knew even then that I _really_ wanted to see her again. It sounds cheesy, but only after meeting her I had realized that my life was sort of incomplete.

So we met again, in a less public setting this time. It was even better than the first meeting, and left me longing for more—more talking, more closeness, more gazing into her bright eyes that were full of life.

And yes, I also wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her sweet lips. But I knew very well that _that_ might not happen before we got married.

I guess it was a good thing that Charles Swan was as pleased with me as my uncle was with Rose. At least my waiting was short!

After our third meeting, Mr. Swan asked me if I was interested in marrying his daughter. I squared my shoulders, looked straight into his eyes and assured him that I was very much interested. He smiled warmly and congratulated me on securing the best of girls as my wife.

Neither Rose nor I was interested in a huge wedding. However, we knew that it was a matter of prestige for Charles Swan. He had to throw the biggest, fanciest party on the occasion to match the reputation of his family, and he wasn't going to listen to a couple of _kids_ on the topic. No, our job was to nod dutifully wherever required, get measured for new clothes and let Mrs. Swan know which cake we would prefer for the reception.

Frankly, it didn't bother me much. I was too busy dreaming of my future with my darling Rose. Yes, now that our wedding had been fixed, I could address her as such. And allowed to have a little more privacy, and steal a few kisses…even if we could hear Renee and Esme giggling in the other room.

It was heaven, and it only became better after we were married.

Perhaps every newly-married couple experiences this bliss; I am not an authority on the subject. But I do know that Rose and I were very, very happy with our life together. There was love and laughter and playfulness, and also peace and content. Even though Rose had grown up in the lap of luxury, she wasn't spoilt in any way. Money meant little to her beyond providing certain comforts to oneself, and being the wife of an administrator didn't go to her head. We were a little too involved in our little world, but that's normal for couples who have tasted the fruits of marital bliss recently, isn't it?

Having a baby added to our joy. Yes, it meant less time for our favourite activities—and I don't mean only the ones in our bedroom, though they are definitely part of them. It meant waking up to the cries of an infant during the night, dirty diapers, and the smell of milk and baby powder in our clothes. But a look at that angelic face, that toothless smile and those chubby fists waving in the air and we forgot everything. The grandparents adored him, and so did my cousins and their children. As for me, the day my son called me _dada_ was one of the happiest in my life.

When he was almost two, Rose became pregnant again. She was ecstatic. I was a little worried how she would manage an infant and a toddler, but she laughed it off, saying women had children even closer together and did fine. Anyway, both the grandmothers promised they would help as much as possible.

We never did find out how Rose would have done with the children. An unforeseen complication resulted in a caesarean, from which my beloved wife never woke up, though the doctors managed to save our daughter.

And my heaven-like dream suddenly turned into a hellish nightmare.

Renee fainted dead away as soon as she heard the news and had to be hospitalized. When she came to, she refused to believe that she had lost her daughter. When someone mentioned the funeral, she began to scream and tore off the IV, forcing the doctors to sedate her. Charles Swan, the sharp and decisive businessman, looked on wordlessly, seeming utterly helpless. Finally he put an arm around my shoulder, almost as if he needed my support, and we came out of the room.

He sighed heavily. "I must let Isabella know, ask her if she will come home for a while."

I blinked, unable to process the information.

He raised an eyebrow. "Isabella? Rose's sister? You do know she is working as a pediatrician in the US?"

"Oh, right," I muttered. "Of course. I met her at the wedding."

That was the extent of my knowledge about Isabella. I didn't remember her face or what we had talked about, or even if we had have a proper conversation. I did remember Rose mentioning that she was terribly shy. Even in the wedding photographs she was trying to hide behind other people.

"Do you think she will stay? She must be very busy with her work there."

Charles sighed again. "I hope so. I can't think of anything else."

He was right, as the days after the funeral proved. With Rose gone, my life had fallen apart once again, only this time my uncle and aunt could not pick up the pieces. Yes, my aunt and my cousins were taking care of my babies, but I knew that they would have to leave sooner or later. It would be impossible for me to care for them single-handedly, even with the help of the two servants we had. And of course I would have to return to my duties in a few days.

There was no hope from Renee as she continued to deny Rose's death, wandering in the house and calling for her as if she was merely hiding somewhere. Charles had to make up excuses at mealtimes so she would eat something. It would be best for them to go back to their home as soon as possible.

It was into this muddled state of affairs that Isabella landed, twelve days after Rose had left me alone. Except that this time I did not have the time to wallow in grief, being responsible for two young lives in addition to my office duties.

* * *

 **A.N.** Have you read the entries in the Age of Edward contest? If you haven't please go ahead and do so. There are some beautiful stories there!

Please share your thoughts with me. That is what makes writing rewarding!


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for your lovely reviews!

* * *

Isabella must have been tired from her long flight when she arrived. And of course she was grieving for her sister, so I didn't pay particular attention to her somber expression and stiffness of manner while greeting her father and mother. I did think that she looked nothing like Rose, or even her mother. Her father's eyes, yes, but more…gentle.

"Isabella," said Renee formally. "I hope you are well."

Isabella answered equally formally, her eyes darting to this side and that as if avoiding her mother's. Charles gave her an awkward pat on the back, and she looked startled.

"Rose will be happy to see you," continued Renee, and Isabella's eyes widened as she looked at Charles for an explanation.

"Rose?"

Her father shrugged helplessly.

"Of course, you should have visited earlier, however busy you were with your studies and work," Renee said with a sigh. "Why, you didn't even come to see her little Jake when he was born. But it is okay, Rose is so forgiving, she will be happy that you are here finally."

I thought it was time to intervene, so I stepped forth and tapped Renee's shoulder.

"Mrs. Swan, I think Rose needs your help with Angela. Why don't you go see her and I will show Isabella to her room?"

I hated to lie to her, to encourage her belief that her daughter was alive, but right then I could not think of anything else.

With Renee gone, the three of us stared at each other for a moment before I remembered my manners and introduced myself to Isabella.

"I am sorry." I nodded to the inside of the house where her mother had disappeared. "She is, um, not ready to accept that Rose…" I stopped, unable to complete the sentence. In a way, I had not accepted that my wife was dead either, I just hid it better than Renee.

Compassion replaced confusion, and tears appeared in her eyes. "I see," she murmured, patting my hand lightly. "I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Masen."

"Call me Edward, please," I said, recalling that I had used her first name without her permission. "We are related, after all." I was in no mood for formality.

She inclined her head. "Of course. I would like to—may I see the children, please?"

"Maybe you should freshen up first," her father suggested. "Have a cup of tea and a bite to eat?" He looked at me, and I agreed with him.

"I suppose I should take a shower first. Don't want to give any germs I might have collected on the journey to the babies."

Spoken like a doctor, I thought.

I showed her to the room that had been prepared for her. One advantage of being in IAS was living in a sprawling double-storey bungalow with a number of bedrooms on the upper floor. Charles and Renee were in one, another had been converted into a nursery for the children, and one was mine of course. The last one would be Isabella's for as long as she stayed there.

I asked her if she wanted to rest, but she insisted it would be better to go to bed after a few hours when it would be night. I left her and asked the cook to send a cup of tea upstairs.

She came downstairs not long after and asked me if she could see the children. Charles and I accompanied her to the nursery.

A girl the cook had recommended as a temporary babysitter was engaging Jake with some Legos, while Angela was sleeping peacefully in her cot. My heart ached to see them, knowing their mother had left them—left _me_ —for ever. The love I had for them could not compensate for what they had lost.

Isabella looked at both of them, then went to the cot and touched Angela's hair lightly. She whispered something to her, but it was too soft for me to catch. Then she sat down on the floor near the babysitter and watched Jake build a plane. Finally he looked up, staring at her with round eyes.

"Hello, Jake," said Isabella with a warm smile. "That is a very nice plane."

"Who are you?"

"I am your aunt. My name is Isabella."

He frowned. "Like Aunt Amy and Aunt Alice?"

Isabella nodded slowly. "Yes, but they are your father's sisters. I am your," she paused and cleared her throat, "mother's sister."

Jake's face fell. "Mummy not here."

"I know, sweetheart."

"I not see you before," he declared.

"I am sorry," she said, sounding guilty. "I lived very far away."

Jake looked thoughtful. "Very far away? How you come here?"

"I came in a plane."

He looked excited. "Like this one?" He handed her the toy he had made.

Isabella smiled, and so did I. "Yes, but it was bigger, much bigger."

Jake turned to me, his eyes shining. "Daddy, we go in a big plane."

I would have promised him the world then, he looked happy for the first time since Rose's death. "Yes Jake, we will go in a big plane."

"We go to see Mummy, Daddy," he continued brightly while I felt my heart dropping to my stomach. "Grandpa said Mummy go far away. We bring her back, okay?"

* * *

 **A.N.** Sorry, I promise happier times will come! Thoughts? Questions?


	4. Chapter 4

You could have heard a pin drop in the ensuing silence. Jake looked at me expectantly, but I had nothing to say to him. Isabella swallowed, her expression painful, then managed a watery smile.

"Jake darling, if we go to bring your mummy back, we cannot leave Angela here alone, can we?"

He shook his head, looking thoughtful. "So we take her?"

"Um, she is too little, sweetheart. The plane makes a _lot_ of noise. She will be scared, you know? Why don't we wait until she is big, then we can take her."

My little boy looked sad again. "All right. When she grow big like me?"

I picked him up and held him close to me. "Yes, when she is big like you, we will go in the plane." He tucked his head in my neck. He trusted me so much. Would he forgive me for lying to him when he was older?

Angela woke up then with a shrill cry. God bless her, my baby had a set of lungs on her. The babysitter checked her diaper and declared that she must be hungry.

"I will get the milk," she said, and lifted Angela from the cot. To my surprise, Isabella offered to keep Angela while Jessica (I remembered her name off and on) went to get the bottle. To be sure, Rose had been her sister, but merely being an aunt did not guarantee affection towards one's nephew or niece, did it?

However, it was clear that Isabella loved both the children. The way she cooed over Angela, the readiness with which she helped Jake eat his food at dinner, and most of all her earnest manner of looking at them proved it. When she kissed both of them goodnight, her eyes were moist with tears.

Charles and Renee went to bed soon after, both of them used to early nights, leaving Isabella and me in the sitting room. I had expected her to follow them and catch up on her sleep, so I was surprised when she lingered behind.

"I am so sorry," she blurted as soon as the door upstairs clicked shut. I frowned.

"Uh, what are you sorry for?"

"For lying to Jake. I shouldn't have, even though he will probably forget it." She wrung her hands nervously. "But what could have I done?"

"Oh," I sighed heavily. "Isabella, it was not your fault. You couldn't have seen where the conversation would lead to, and you couldn't have told him the truth. It would have made him cry again."

"I will be more careful in the future," she murmured, perhaps to herself.

"It's okay, really. I lied to him as well. As long as our intention is good, God will forgive us."

She smiled a sad little smile. "I hope so. If you don't mind, I think I will turn in now."

"Of course, you must be tired. Good night, Isabella."

"Good night, Edward."

I should have gone to sleep too, I felt exhausted. But I knew I would just lie in my bed and toss and turn around for hours, worrying about Angela and Jake. I leaned back on the thickly upholstered sofa and stared out of the French window, questioning the stars I could see what was written in the kismet of my children.

-ooo0ooo-

In spite of the disastrous first meeting with my son, Isabella did not shy away from him, though she was careful while talking with him. It was not easy, he was a toddler and bound to ask about his mother sometimes. Luckily she could distract him with stories that he listened with open-mouthed fascination—she was a really good storyteller—and playing with him for hours. She would also feed Angela, bathe her, dress her and then take both of them out in the garden. Angela would be in her pink pram, looking like a pretty doll herself, with Jake skipping alongside and chattering non-stop. In just a week, I could see the difference in him, how much happier he was around his aunt.

I had to go back to my office after I had taken two weeks off. I am sure I would have been sick with worry if Isabella had not been there. As it was, I could start working again with a little less load on my shoulders than before. I missed my Rose every minute of the day, but at least I did not feel guilty of neglecting my children. Isabella was not their mother, but she cared for them just like a mother.

Two more weeks passed, during which the wispy hair on Angela's head became more visible and her features somewhat defined. Jake was delighted when she would grip his finger in her tiny fist and hold on to it with all her might. I was delighted when she smiled at me, though Renee informed me that she was too young to do so.

Charles looked a little less tired, though his eyes belied the sadness inside him. Sometimes I would catch him staring at Isabella while she talked nonsense to Angela and made Jake laugh. It was a serious, thoughtful gaze as if he was trying to figure out something, but when I asked him what the matter was, he shook his head and remained quiet.

One Sunday morning he came to me after breakfast and said he had something important to discuss with me. He said that it was time for him and Renee to return to their home, they had been here long enough and things were running pretty smoothly.

"Oh," I said, understanding his point but feeling scared to be on my own again. "Will Isabella go with you? Or is she returning to the US?"

I suppose I could ask Jessica to be a full-time nanny, or ask around for someone reliable. However, the thought of leaving my children to someone I barely knew made my heart clench with worry.

Charles sighed, then sat up straight as he looked seriously at me. "Edward, have you thought of a long-term arrangement for the children? A second marriage, perhaps?"

Shocked at his suggestion, I glared at him. "I will never marry again. And I will certainly not bring a strange woman in my home and leave my babies at her mercy. Who knows how she will treat them when I am not around?"

One side of his lips lifted in a wry smile. "I would never suggest that to you, Edward. But you agree that the children will need a mother sooner or later? They can't live only with servants around them, can they?"

I nodded reluctantly.

Charles pushed his glasses up and cleared his throat. "Last night I asked Isabella if she was returning to the US, and she said she was not, so I asked her if she would make this arrangement a permanent one." He looked me meaningfully.

I frowned. "She is willing to stay here until the children grow up? I can't ask that from her."

"She can't stay here just like that, Edward," he said patiently. "People will talk, you understand? She loves Jake and Angela as if they were her own, you have seen that, but if she stays here you will have to marry her. It is the only way."

"Marry her?" My voice sounded as if I was being strangled, even to my own ears. I am sure my face lost all colour.

Charles sighed. "I understand you don't want to marry anybody, at least not right now. But we have to be practical, son. The children need a mother now, not ten years later. You don't want to risk their well-being, and Isabella is ready to stay here and take care of them, and most important—she loves them. You can see it leads to only one conclusion, can't you?"

I sat with my head bowed and my eyes brimming with tears. Yes, he was right in everything, but marrying someone when I was still grieving for my wife? To me, it felt like a betrayal.

"Don't you think Rose would want her children looked after by someone who truly loves them and cares for them?" said my father-in-law softly, but it felt like I had been punched in the gut.

Of course Rose would want that, in fact I couldn't imagine how much it would sadden her to see her children be otherwise. With that argument, all my objections to being married again became nothing.

But there was still something I wanted to clarify.

"What about Isabella? Is this kind of marriage all right with her?" I asked Charles. Surely she had dreams of her own!

He looked relieved. "If that is your only worry, you can put it to rest. Isabella was never interested in marriage, only in her studies and then being a doctor. I have spoken with her, and she understands that this is the only solution. But of course, you can go and speak with her, ask whatever you want to ask."

I took his advice, but it was as he had said. Isabella listened to me carefully and then let me know that she understood we would be getting married for the sake of the children, and she did not expect anything more.

"They are your first priority as they are mine," she said, looking me in the eyes. Her tone was gentle and yet passionate. "I cannot risk their welfare, Edward. Rose was a wonderful sister to me. I have to do this for her or I won't be able to forgive myself."

I exhaled, relieved in a manner that the matter had been settled and that my children had a mother once again.

We had a court marriage the next day, with Charles and Carlisle as witnesses. Renee was not informed. Charles said he would tell her when she became more stable.

We came home. I kissed the children and then left for the office.

* * *

 **A.N.** A relatively longer chapter for you, since it's my birthday today!

Thoughts?

Do check out the lovely entries in the Age of Edward contest, but please do not guess who the author might be in your review. That might disqualify the entry!


	5. Chapter 5

Charles and Renee left the next day, satisfied that all was well at our end. And Isabella and I began our new life together.

In some ways it wasn't much different from the month gone by, when Isabella had been a guest. She still kept her room, took care of Jake and Angela, and played with them. And yet, everything was different, at least to my mind.

Marriage gave everything a sense of permanency. I was no longer worried about my children's future, knowing that I had a partner in life now who shared all my responsibilities, including caring for the little angles. Losing Rose made me realize that a parent could die young too, and many a times I wondered what would happen to my babies if I died as well. Even though it was unlikely, the possibility made me feel very much scared.

Having Isabella as my wife reassured me that all would be well even if I wasn't around. The first thing I did on joining the office was to submit a copy of our marriage certificate to my senior and doing the required paperwork so that her name was included in every important document, including my bank account and insurance policy. After that I made sure that the children's guardianship would go to her in case anything happened to me, and also made her a co-owner of the house my parents had left for me.

She protested of course, saying that nothing was going to happen to me, but I begged her to go with it for my peace of mind. When she saw how worried I was, she agreed to everything.

I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my mind; I felt as if I could breathe better.

She made the house more alive too. Not that she was much of a talker, but her very presence was soothing and warm. Her gentle spirit and cheerful disposition made Jake love her and the staff like her in no time at all. She managed the household smoothly, charmed Carlisle and Esme when they visited us and even made _me_ feel less lonely.

Until Isabella came into my life, there was nobody I could talk with what I was going through. The pain I felt on losing Rose, the worry that gnawed at my heart as I looked at my babies, the deep loneliness that made me feel cold inside—I could not talk about these with Renee or Charles, and as for Carlisle and Esme, I felt they had already done enough for me. I did not want to burden them with my sadness once again, especially as they were getting on in years. My emotions were frozen inside me as I just went through the days, careful to maintain my façade of calm efficiency. I knew the people at office were sympathetic, but they could not help me.

I still remember the night when I opened up to Isabella. It must have been two weeks after our marriage, maybe a few days more.

We had been getting along well, I suppose. In fact, I could not imagine anybody _not_ getting along with her. A kind of routine had developed between us as we spent some time together with the children before I left for the office and again in the evening. Isabella would tell me what new word Jake had picked up or what antic he had been up to, and he would prattle on along with her, and I would make funny faces at Angela and she would give her gummy smile. When it was time for the children to sleep, I would tuck Jake in while Isabella would see to Angela, and then she would sing a lullaby to them.

That she could sing was a pleasant surprise to me. Neither Rose nor I could carry a tune, though that didn't stop us from humming to our babies or trying to sing occasionally, even if we sounded like one of the cartoon characters Jake liked. But Isabella's voice, though untrained, was sweet and low-pitched. When she sang, it calmed not only the children but me as well. Honestly, sometimes I was tempted to lie down on the nursery floor and go to sleep right there!

Both of us liked reading, so after the children had gone to sleep we would curl up on the long sofas in the living room with whatever books we were reading and pass the time in companionable silence. Sometimes one of us would make a remark on a character or a dialogue that we liked or disliked or found funny, but it was infrequent. We were aware that when one was enjoying a book, one did not like to chatter.

I _had_ noticed that Isabella liked classics and non-fiction. As for me, I was addicted to all sorts of action, adventures and thrillers. They were my guilty pleasure.

That night I was rereading 'The Dogs of War', completely engrossed in the nail-biting description of the attack on the palace, when I was distracted by the sound of chuckling. I took my eyes off the page and found Isabella trying to stifle her laughter behind her hand while her eyes shined with mirth. I realized that I had never heard her laugh openly. Why was she trying to hide it?

She noticed my questioning look and removed her hand, smiling. "I just remembered how Rose and I argued on the merits of books versus magazines. She could never understand how I could immerse myself in a story for hours, and I could not imagine reading those articles on beauty and fashion and good housekeeping every month. In the end, we just agreed to disagree."

Her words made me smile even though hearing Rose's name made my heart twinge. But what was new with that? At least she was speaking to me like a normal person and not walking on eggshells.

"Very true," I agreed, smiling reminiscently. "She knew how absorbed I would get in a good book, and she had a sixth sense where particularly intense scenes were concerned. Just as the fight would reach the highest pitch or the mystery about to be unravelled, she would sneak up to me and yell _boo!_ "

Isabella laughed, her eyes scrunching up at the corners. "Oh no, I can't believe she did that! Must have given you quite a shock, right?"

"Definitely. A couple of times I almost fell off the sofa. She laughed so much over that!"

"She was always a prankster," Isabella said, her smile tinged with sadness. "Mother used to be at her wit's end trying to make her understand that good little girls didn't tease others like that, but then Rose would smile and charm her into forgiving her instantly. She never meant any harm, you know, she was just playful."

I nodded. "She was. You know how they say that people forget their inner child as they grow up? I think Rose had that child very much present. She was always finding something new to do or to get excited about, being happy and making others happy."

Isabella looked wistful. "She was sunshine personified. I still can't believe she is gone." She swallowed as if her throat had gone dry. "How can someone so young, so full of life just…not be there?"

"I miss her so much," I admitted. It was the first time I had allowed myself to say so in front of someone, even a family member.

"Of course you do," she said softly and sighed. We remained quiet and lost in our thoughts for a moment.

"Edward, I haven't been that much in touch with Rose since she got married." I looked up to find her swiping at her eyes. "If you don't mind, will you tell me about her? I want to know her as she was these past few years, please."

I was hesitant at first, but I knew how kind-hearted Isabella was, so I began to talk about my lost love. Isabella said she didn't want to know anything specific, just whatever came to my mind. In return, I asked her about the years _she_ had spent with Rose.

I had not thought it would be such a relief to share my memories of Rose with someone else.

We did not set a time for our conversation, but we knew that the other person was willing to listen and understand. Slowly, very slowly, as the months passed and Jake learnt more and more new words and Angela learnt to turn onto her tummy and then crawl on all fours, I realized something.

I was learning a lot about Rose, of course, and sharing the years I had spent with her, but I was also learning something about Isabella. Not a lot, for she was reluctant to talk about herself, but still sometimes something would escape her that would give me a glimpse of the girl she had been growing up.

I began to be curious about her. Clearly, she had changed a lot over the years, and I wanted to know how it came to be. I wanted to know her better, not just the woman who had taken pity on me and became a mother to my children, but also Isabella the woman.

* * *

 **A.N.** Thank you for your lovely reviews and for sympathizing with Bella. She certainly had a difficult time growing up, and Charles did assume that she would be ready to marry Edward, but in the end it was her decision. She didn't do it to please her father, but because she could not leave Jake and Angela.

As you can see in this chapter, things are changing between them!

Have you ever been so engrossed in a book or movie that you forgot everything else? Did something or someone startle you or made you jump? :)

If you have not been to the Age of Edward contest page, please do so. There are some real gems waiting for you. And please leave reviews!


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the late posting, friends. This was a difficult chapter, plus I was travelling. Also, thank you for all the insightful comments you left for the previous chapter. You are the best readers ever!

* * *

It was not easy to get Isabella to open up and talk about herself. She was more than willing to talk about Rose and the children, but smiled and changed the topic if my questions became too personal. I did notice that her remarks on her parents were deliberately vague, and though she called them every week, the conversation was brief and stilted. Obviously, there was some kind of strain in their relationship.

Renee slowly seemed to accept that Rose was dead, and actually came with Charles to visit us on Christmas. I could see that she did not act very motherly towards Isabella. Her previous visit had been overshadowed with grief of course, and she had not been in her right mind, but such was not the case this time. Yes, all of us missed Rose very much and our manner of celebrating Christmas was rather subdued, but there was no reason Renee could not spare a kind word to her elder daughter. I had seen her dote on Rose, and she still doted on her children. I knew that she was capable of affection. Then why did that affection turn to coldness where Isabella was concerned?

The answer came out in the most unexpected manner. The day had gone quite well. We had exchanged presents in the morning, played with the children and enjoyed a scrumptious lunch. When I praised the cook for the delicious spread, she informed me that Isabella had helped her a lot with the preparation and had even asked her what was my favourite dish.

Surprised, I looked at Isabella and found her cheeks tinted a delicate pink. I thanked her for all the trouble she had gone through, in addition to looking after our guests and keeping the children engaged and happy.

Angela had newly learnt to stand up using support, if only for a few seconds. Renee, who was encouraging her by holding out her hands so that Angela could clutch at them with her chubby fingers and stand, smiled fondly at her.

"It's the least Isabella can do for you and the children, Edward," she addressed me, still looking at Angela. "You have done her a great favour, after all."

I was completely puzzled. "Favour? To her?"

Also, I did not like Renee's supercilious tone.

Charles raised a warning brow at her, but she explained without heeding to it. "Of course. If you had not taken pity on her and married her, she would never have had a husband or children. She is so plain and well past the marriageable age, you see. She would have surely died alone after slaving at the hospital for years."

Isabella's face lost all colour. Even her lips appeared to be pale.

I was furious. I was usually an even-tempered man, but her cruel words made me want to throw something at her.

"Mrs. Swan," I said, trying to keep my volume normal so as not to scare Jake and Angela. "You are under a serious misapprehension. It is Isabella who has taken pity on me and my children in this marriage. She had a brilliant future as a paediatrician, but she has put it on hold for the sake of Jake and Angela. Please do not disrespect her by saying or even thinking otherwise."

She appeared genuinely shocked at my little speech, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open.

"But—but," she stuttered, "you could have married anybody, someone beautiful and—"

"Renee," growled Charles. "Shut up before Edward banishes you from his house and his children's life. You are being extremely rude."

"But it is the truth," she wailed, her eyes filling with tears and her lips trembling. "My darling Rose was so pretty, and Isabella—"

Angela fell on her little bum and yelled her displeasure because Renee had let her hands go. Isabella, who had been still as a statue, suddenly came to life and picked her up. Muttering an apology, she left the living room.

My jaw hurt from the way I had clenched it. "I think it will be better for everyone if you leave now," I said to Charles, ignoring Renee completely.

She looked at both of us and burst into tears. "Nobody understands me." Then she got up and left, crying noisily.

"I am so sorry," sighed Charles. "Maybe she has not recovered yet. I will take her home."

Little hands pulled at the hem of my shirt as my son stood in front of me, his eyes round and full of worry. "Why is grandma crying?" he asked, close to tears himself. I mentally cursed Renee for scaring Jake. I remembered how quiet he had become after Rose died. Isabella had made him feel secure again, made him laugh.

I pulled him into my lap. "She is just sad." What else could I say to him?

He pursed his little mouth. "Why? Is mummy going away?"

I frowned. "No sweetheart, mummy is not going away. Why do you ask?"

A couple of tears fell from his eyes. "Grandma cried when Rose-mummy went far away. Now she is crying again. Is Bella-mummy going away too?"

My heart broke at his fear. "No Jake, she is not going anywhere. Grandma is still sad over Rose-mummy, that is why she was crying."

"Don't let Bella-mummy go, Daddy," he said, his words muffled as he hid his face in my chest, his little body shaking.

If I did not see Renee for the next ten years, it would be too less a time.

"I won't," I assured him, though my voice was unsteady. "I promise."

-ooo0ooo-

The Swans left soon after, Charles apologizing, Renee puffy-eyed and not looking at me. Jake had cried himself to sleep in my lap, so I put him to bed for a nap. Angela was already sleeping in her cot. I went to Isabella's room and knocked softly. If she was sleeping, I wouldn't wake her up.

She opened the door immediately. I looked for signs of tears, angry ones perhaps, but there was only resignation.

"I want to—" I stopped and cleared my throat. "I want to talk with you, if you are not busy?" my request ended up on a questioning note. I wouldn't blame her if she wasn't in a mood to talk.

She gestured me to enter. "No, come in. I thought you would want to know why my mother said that. Thank you for defending me, by the way."

How could she be so stoic?

"There should not have been a need to defend you," I said as I took a seat at the other end on the small sofa by the large window, a perfect place to curl up with a book on a rainy day. "What your mother said was inexcusable, Isabella. And she did not even apologize for it!"

A little puff of air escaped her lips as her eyes grew sadder. "That is because she believes in what she said, Edward. And some of it is true—Rose _was_ a beautiful girl, and you _could_ have married someone pretty, had you chosen to do so."

"But that's not the point!"

She nodded. "No, you are angry because my mother said you have done me a favour, isn't it? And because I would have died a spinster otherwise, right? Well, that might or might not have happened, but in her experience it seemed probable." A wan smile as she gazed out of the window, at the blue sky and then at the blue sea in the distance, its water sparkling under the late afternoon sun. "My parents tried to get me married, Edward. They looked for a suitable groom for me, but of course he had to be well-educated and from a good family. Boys like those weren't interested in me once they had a look at me, they wanted a pretty girl, except one who clearly stated that he would marry me if my father would make him his business partner because he deserved _some incentive_ to make me his wife. I can't even blame him for that!"

"Why?" I asked, aghast at her thoughts. "Do you believe that all men are that shallow? That all they want in their wife is a pretty face? That's not fair, Isabella!"

She pressed my hand in an appeasing motion. "No Edward, that would make me a hypocrite. You see, I too believed that good looks were a very important part of a person, whether male or female—well, more for females in our society than males. Not everything of course, I knew that a kind heart and a fair mind counted for a lot, but still the appeal of physical beauty could not be denied. Or perhaps I should say it cannot be denied, for it is still a fact. It makes people take a second look at one, makes them want to know a person better, doesn't it?"

I grimaced at her words. "That might be true, but it goes only so far in a relationship. If a husband and wife do not like each other, being beautiful cannot keep them together. In fact, we can find the same person ugly depending upon our feelings towards them, so what is the real meaning of beauty?"

"Oh, I agree with you," Isabella said softly, her eyes as warm as her voice. "I am just saying that it is the first thing we see when we look at a person we do not know. And where arranged marriage is concerned, boys usually don't want to know a girl who doesn't appeal to their eyes, so the matter stops right there."

"So I wouldn't have married Rose had she not been beautiful?"

"You are one of the very few men who see beyond one's looks, Edward." Her tone was perfectly sincere. "Unfortunately, it took me losing my sister to understand that one's face matters very little in life, that being alive and well was a boon in itself. Rose was beautiful inside and out, the best sister in this world, yet I did not realize this while we were growing up. I could have saved myself from so much misery and have had so much fun with Rose, had I not been so conscience of my features."

I took a moment to digest her words. "You are being too hard on yourself, I think. You believed what you saw around you, so how is it your fault? And shouldn't your mother realize the same thing you have, at least now?"

She shrugged. "Yes, she should, but we can't force her, can we? Maybe she will come around with time. Even if she doesn't, I feel nothing but pity for her. She is a prisoner of her own beliefs, just like I used to be."

"I suppose you feel pity for me as well," I muttered, "for different reasons of course. At that time I could not see further than my children, but now I feel like I am weighing you down. Your life could have been much better than this."

Isabella squeezed my shoulder. "Not pity Edward, compassion. Both of us lost the same person, didn't we? And yes, I too was thinking of the children then, but you must know that my life is what I want it to be. I was the one who decided to take a break from my career, so don't blame yourself." She gave a shy smile. "You are an amazing man, truly. I had not imagined such men existed outside of the world of fiction."

Her unexpected praise made my ears heat up. "Now you are pulling my leg. I know I have faults, plenty of them. Rose laughed over them often enough."

"Oh, I am not saying you are perfect," she said with a soft laugh. "Nobody is, are they? But from what I have seen of you, you are a good man and a very good father, very caring." Her tone became serious again. "I am glad that you accepted my support, Edward. You are being strong for the sake of your children, but sometimes even strong people need to lean on someone to keep their balance, you know?"

I nodded slowly. "You are right, they do. Leaning on you has kept me sane. But in turn, will you lean on me as well, sometimes? We are a team, aren't we? Then we should support each other."

She smiled and agreed, and I said I should leave so she could get some rest before the children woke up. After their nap, there was no doubt that they would be full of energy all evening!

We shook hands to seal the pact. Isabella's smile was a happy one and it reflected in her dark brown eyes. I was glad that she had not allowed her mother's prejudice to taint her gentle soul or subdue her spirit. As I looked into her shining eyes, I wondered how her parents had missed the beauty that they cast upon the beholder.

All of a sudden, I wanted to make up for all the hurt she must have gone through over the years. Yes, she had admitted that she had given great importance to looks while growing up and even later on, but wouldn't it have been different if they had showered her with their love?

I gave her an impulsive little hug at the door, letting her know that I was there for her. Fate had brought us together in a strange and tragic turn of life, but we could still make a go of it, be a normal family.

That was what Rose would have wanted, wouldn't she?

* * *

 **A.N.** Do share your thoughts, they are what encourage me to write ahead!

Thank you for all the lovely reviews you left for 'Sati'. I plan to expand it into a book, but it will be original fiction as I want to focus on their married life in Shimla, keeping it as close to reality as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for the love you have bestowed on this story and the patience you have exercised for the updates. This chapter is lighter than the ones before it. Enjoy!

* * *

Renee might have been thoughtless to the point of being cruel, but her visit did result in a frank conversation between Isabella and me that cleared some very important issues between us. We had respected each other even before that, but after understanding the past better we could truly move forward.

I felt lighter and happier than I had felt in the past months. On New Year's Day, which fell on a Sunday, I asked Isabella if we could take the children to the beach. She smiled and agreed that it was a good idea.

"Do you know how to swim?" I asked. Growing up, I had had classmates who had never learnt to swim, or if they did, they preferred the school pool rather than the Arabian Sea. Not clean enough, their parents had decided for them. Thankfully, my parents had not been so squeamish.

Although Rose wasn't finicky about the residue of marine life in the water, she never stayed in the sea for long. After a while she would get out, dry herself and lounge under one of the many huge, colourful umbrellas dotting the beach. When I would have my fill of swimming and join her, she would tease me for looking like a lobster!

And of course, once Jake was born she refused to leave him alone and go swimming. By leaving him _alone_ I mean leaving him under my watch—she said she trusted me but our baby boy was just too mischievous and too quick on his feet.

It was true. Jake was a sweet boy, but he did tend to wander off as soon as he got a chance. Also, he was completely fearless of strangers. The thought of him getting lost on the beach or being abducted was enough to give Rose nightmares.

Therefore we had decided to give the beach a miss until he was a little older, so that we could make him understand it was important to stay with one of us while we were in a public place.

Isabella assured me she could swim like a fish, so I sat Jake down and made sure that he understood where we were going and what all he was _not_ supposed to do there. After a few minutes I heard a laugh, quickly stifled, and looked up to see Isabella pressing her lips together, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"I am just making sure he will be safe there," I frowned. It was not something I could take lightly, could I?

To my surprise, she reached forward and rubbed her thumb on my forehead as if erasing the frown. "I know you worry about him, Edward, about both of them, but you are scaring him with all that can go wrong at the beach. You know, if you focus only on the worries, you will forget to enjoy their childhood. Please remember that you are not alone, that I am here to share your responsibilities. Now, why don't you change and I will put together a picnic basket, hmm?"

Her touch and her words were soothing, and I smiled, remembering how Rose used to calm me whenever I was stressed because of anything work-related. Almost instinctively I took her hand and put it in my hair, drawing her close at the same time so I could press my face against her stomach. She must have understood my unspoken request, for her fingers began to comb my hair gently. I closed my eyes and exhaled, utterly relaxed.

After a minute or two had passed, I heard Jake ask Isabella what she was doing.

"Well, you know how I put oil in your hair and massage it?"

"But you didn't put oil in daddy's hair," he observed wisely.

"But it still makes him feel good," said Isabella, using both of her hands to massage my scalp. I might have moaned a little.

Also, I noticed how good she smelled. I put my arms around her waist and held on.

"I can help you," Jake piped up.

The next moment I felt his little hands on my head, patting me and then pulling my hair. I chuckled and pulled my son into my lap. As I tickled him, Isabella laughed. It was a very pleasant sound.

"I will go get Angela ready." She ruffled my hair once and left.

-ooo0ooo-

The beach was crowded, of course, it being Sunday and also a nice warm day. The breeze ruffled my hair as I searched for a suitable place to sit down. Jake was so excited he could not decide what to look at—the multi-coloured beach umbrellas, the people roaming around or the boats zipping in the sea. He gazed at everything with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open with wonder. Angela seemed curious too, pointing at this and that and babbling, but I could not say what all she understood. She was barely ten months, after all.

Finally we chose a spot not too secluded but not too close to the crowd. I put down the bags belonging to the children and the picnic basket, and spread an old blanket on the golden sand. Jake immediately wanted to go into the water, so I asked Isabella if she would be okay looking after Angela by herself.

"Of course I will be okay. Go enjoy with Jake," she assured me.

Both Jake and I were wearing swim shorts under our clothes, so it took us only a minute to take off our clothes and walk to the shore. I thought a gentle introduction would be better, so at first we merely let the waves lap at our feet. Jake found it great fun and squealed every time the water wet his feet. Soon he wanted to go further in.

"Don't let go of my hand," I warned him for the tenth time.

"Yes, Daddy," he nodded eagerly.

The water there was fairly calm, with only a few small waves breaking on the shore now and then, so I held him and waded in until his feet no longer touched the sand. Holding him close to me, I encouraged him to kick his feet.

"Daddy, look, I am simming!"

His lisp was so adorable that I didn't have the heart to correct him. I told him that he would become a very good swimmer one day if he kept on practising.

Of course I wished Rose was alive to see her son enjoying the water, but I told myself I would not spend the day being sad. My children and Isabella deserved to be happy again, and so did I.

When he had had enough, I floated around for a bit with Jake lying on my chest. It was a peaceful feeling.

He became hungry soon, of course, so we went back to where Isabella and Angela were waiting. Jake prattled to Isabella about the soft sand under his feet and the waves breaking over them, and his feat of _simming._ She smiled and encouraged him, and then opened the picnic basket and took out sandwiches and fruits.

I was itching to get back into the waves and practice my strokes, but I still asked Isabella if she wanted to go first.

"It _has_ been a long time since I had a chance to go swimming," she confessed. "Are you sure you can handle both of them?"

"I think so," I said. "Jake can help me look after Angela. He is a big boy now. Right, Jake?"

Jake grinned proudly and said yes, he could. Also, he wanted to build sand castles like some other children were doing, so we were all set.

Isabella went to the nearest changing room, appearing in a one-piece navy blue swimsuit in a few minutes. As swimsuits go it was fairly decent, but I had never seen her in one. I gawked at her for a brief moment before remembering our situation and looking away.

She kissed both the children and then playfully pecked my cheek. I felt my face heating up and cleared my throat, feeling as awkward as a thirteen year old. What was happening to me?

As she walked off, I stared at her lean back. Slender would be the right word for Isabella. She was tall for a woman, and thin but with gentle curves. Her limp, which I understood had resulted from an accident in childhood, was barely noticeable as she walked on the sand. I frowned, thinking how conscious she must have been of it as a teenager, perhaps even as an adult. Thankfully, she didn't pay much attention to it nowadays.

Jake demanded that we start making a sandcastle, so I pushed away my gloomy thoughts and showed him how to dig a bit so we could have wet sand for the castle. Angela was not to be left behind of course, so she too joined the digging and the patting, squealing with delight intermittently. Before we knew, almost an hour had passed and Isabella was back from her swim, dripping wet and looking more like a mermaid than a human being.

She admired the castle we had made, while I admired her.

"I will go change, then you can have your turn," she offered, taking off her cap and shaking her head. Long, dark locks came tumbling down with the movement.

How had I never noticed her hair before? Oh yes, because she always kept it tied in a neat bun.

Wrapping a towel around her torso, Isabella left for the changing-room.

"Daddy, can I have ice cream, please?"

Jake's eager question brought me out of my daze. I had been ogling Isabella as she walked away, in front of my children. What kind of father was I?

But she is your wife, whispered a voice inside me. And it is not just a physical want, is it?

No, it wasn't only lust, I knew that. I truly liked and respected Isabella. Even though it had been less than a year since I met her, she had become my best friend and confidant. She would never replace Rose in my heart—just as my uncle and aunt couldn't replace my parents—but she had certainly filled the emptiness in my life. Her gentle presence around me and her devotion to Jake and Angela helped my heart ache a little less, my eyes sting fewer times than before. Simply put, she helped me heal.

Could I make her happy as well?

"Daddy?"

"Yes Jake, you can have ice cream. Just let mummy come back, okay?"

Since Angela was too young to have ice cream, and since she would have raised a storm if Jake ate it in front of her, I took him to the ice cream vender after Isabella was back. Pleased as punch, he licked his cone carefully, swinging his legs and asking me a dozen questions in between.

How big was the sea? Where did the waves come from? Did the sun go inside the sea in the evening? Where did it live? Why didn't the moon give light like the sun?

"Can I go in one of those boats, Daddy?" He pointed to a small boat in which seven or eight people were taking their seats while the boatman held it steady.

"When you and Angela are a little bigger, son. These boats rock a lot and they are small. You might fall out."

"And Angela?"

"Well yes, she too might fall out."

"But Bella-mummy can hold her. And you can hold me. Then we won't fall."

My boy was too smart for his own good.

"We will hold you, but there is still a chance that one of you might fall into the sea. We can't take the risk."

"I can sit on a fish and come back to you."

What did I say just now? Too smart.

"What if the fish takes you farther into the sea? We won't be able to find you then!"

He pondered over it for a moment.

"I will tell it I will give it ice cream if it brings me back to you!" He looked at me, eyes shining with confidence that no fish would be able to refuse such an offer. I shook my head and ruffled his hair.

"Time to go back, Jake. I will go for a swim and you stay with mummy, okay? Don't go anywhere."

He promised me he wouldn't, and Isabella told me they would make a bigger castle and decorate it with shells.

When I came back from my swim, it was clear they were having a wonderful time, all three of them giggling together. I dressed quickly and joined them, eager to find out what was amusing them so much.

"We have made a tunnel," explained Isabella, half her arm inside the sand as she bent sideways to balance herself.

"I have to find mummy's hand," added Jake, almost all of his arm in the _tunnel_ they had dug. "Ugh, where is it? I caught it last time."

It reminded me of the game I played as a child with my friends. I smiled. "Can I try, Jake?"

"Okay." He wiggled his arm out and shook it. "Your arm is longer than mine."

So logical. I imitated Isabella as I situated myself comfortably and inserted my hand inside the tunnel. Jake and Angela watched me, their expression expectant.

"Be careful or it will fall down," Jake cautioned me wisely. I pressed my lips together so as to suppress a laugh at his seriousness.

"Okay, son."

As I wiggled more of my arm inside, very carefully, my fingers touched Isabella's for a fraction of a second before she drew them back. My eyes met hers over the tunnel and she giggled. I think I did too.

"You can't hide from me," I said in a sing-song, trying to sound like the bad guy from a horror movie.

Both the children laughed at my bad imitation, even though they wouldn't know the difference.

"Oh no, please don't catch me, Mister Villain," Isabella said, playing along. However, her fingers tickled my palm and then retracted quickly. Ooh, a challenge. My competitive side woke up, demanding that I win.

I needed strategy.

"Okay, I give up. You are too quick for me." I sighed and pretended to be taking my arm out. As I had thought, she relaxed, smiling widely. Before she could withdraw, I pounced, moving my hand fast and catching hers in a tight grip.

Isabella laughed, surprised. "You cheated!"

I shrugged. "I got you, didn't I? Now I am not letting you go."

I really didn't want to. It wasn't the first time I had held her hand, but somehow it just felt _good,_ as if it was meant to be in mine.

Her eyes softened. "Never?"

And I knew it was more than this moment. She was asking me about our life together, whether I would be able to give all of me to make an _us_. I also knew that what had once seemed impossible no longer seemed so, though it would still take some time.

And so under the blue sky and above the golden sand I made a promise to Isabella, the woman with a heart of gold fate had brought into my life, giving me a second chance at happiness. I squeezed her hand, delicate yet strong, and looked into her eyes, conveying the sincerity of my thoughts and words.

"Never."

* * *

 **A.N.** The tunnel game is straight out of my childhood. We had so much fun digging in the sand and chasing the other person's hand!

What did you love the most about going to the beach as a child?

A couple of chapters more, I think. The next one might change the rating of this story, though there won't be anything explicit. That wouldn't suit this tale!

A few readers had felt earlier that Isabella had been shortchanged in their marriage. Do you still feel so?


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